


Gifts from Brothers

by Drowsy_Salamander



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drowsy_Salamander/pseuds/Drowsy_Salamander
Summary: Hans was the youngest of thirteen, he saw how all of his brothers acted and could pick out their virtues and vices. He took what was useful and discarded the useless. Truly there was much to be learnt.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 4





	Gifts from Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw Frozen 2 and it dragged me back into this fandom. A while back I got really into Frozen fanfiction, especially stuff surrounding Hans and created characters for all twelve of his brothers which is slightly excessive honestly and after watching the sequel I remembered all my characters and got so excited, so I wrote this little thing. It's more experimental than usual but whatever.

The crown prince, Matthias walked everywhere as though he owned the place as he one day would. He had a smile that said ‘This is where I’m supposed to be.’. Hans had seen Matthias walk out of the ladies’ powder room with the same smile and women’s giggling following him out rather than screams of indignation. Matthias could do virtually anything because of his bold nature and his expectation that he could do anything. The world reworked itself to accommodate him, shocked by his easy will. Everything came easily to Matthias from his position to the public’s love to his family and children, he had everything and flaunted that fact.  
From Matthias, he learnt confidence.

Arthur was the second son, the second prince. The second most handsome, the second most charismatic, the second most useful. He stood just behind Matthias in his shadow, the perfect place to thrust a knife into Matthias’ back. Arthur was smarter than Matthias and far more willing to do the dirty work than his elder brother. Arthur yearned for power like a tree yearns for sun and he would get it. While Matthias smiled at crowds and kissed babies, Arthur spoke to people at court. He could be charming and very pragmatic; you do something for me and I’ll do something for you. Lords and Ladies wanted their interests looked after, wanted to know that they could keep their lands and their peasants and Arthur nodded along, of course they could keep their power but unfortunately, he could only ensure it if he was in control and well…. By the time Hans was nine he saw the game Arthur was playing and laughed because if only he was older then that’s just what he would do.  
From Arthur, he learnt ambition.

Dylan had a soft smile and sweet eyes and drifted around the castle like a lost, little cloud. At banquets he was quiet and sat beside his twin. Despite their identical faces, he could never be mistaken for Arthur with his unassuming nature but Dylan was clever and his ingenuity behind shyness. He commanded the palace guards and listened to rumours. He had others to tell him what was going on and who was thinking what about whom and then he neatly wrapped it all up into a package to be delivered to the king but not before taking out some prize morsels for himself. Dylan was the kingmaker in the future power struggle. The spymaster with no desire to be king but with all the power to crown someone. He sat behind a mask of innocent bemusement, smiling at the approaching storm.  
From Dylan, he learnt duplicity.

Fourth in line to the throne, Scott was the long shot, the last spare with even a glimmer of possibility of sitting upon it but even then, so unlikely as to hardly be worth the effort. Brave and strategic, Scott was a warrior through and through, rising to General through a combination of nepotism and actual competence. He was beloved by his troops, lauded and praised. The army was loyal to Scott first and then the crown. Scott had carefully cultivated this loyalty and ingratiated himself into the military so thoroughly that he had reached the same level of viability as an heir as either Arthur or Matthias. It had been a long ploy, he’d been operating it for longer than Hans had been alive and when Hans had realised just what he had done, he had to admit it was ingenious.  
From Scott, he learnt patience.

Soren attracted scandals as magnets attracted iron. He was the last son of the first queen and as such, the last son the king gave a shred of attention to. Soren squandered that love, being the centre of affairs and embarrassments, bringing shame down onto the family and country. He could make anyone fall in love with him in an hour and have them in bed in another hour. And to bed he went with women and men, with sailors and baronesses. He could switch between roles at the drop of a hat, whatever his future conquest would be most attracted to. From a princely courtship to a roughish charm to a dark sensuality, all roles he adopted and discarded. He broke hearts and ensnared eyes, a smile always ready on his handsome face. Once Hans asked him just how he did it, how even in his mid-thirties he still had people a decade his junior (or senior, Soren wasn’t picky). His older brother had just laughed and ruffled his hair before taking a swig of whiskey. “Just show them what they want to see.”  
From Soren, he learnt charm.

William was the forgotten sibling, as much of an embarrassment as Soren but in a completely different way. William stayed cooped up in his room or the library, avoiding people almost as much as he avoided food. William always cut a ghostly figure, pale and thin, sickly looking. He was the ghost that haunted the palace and the victim of even more jokes than Hans was. But he did have value. His head was full of fear and theory and if Hans coaxed him just right, he could pull William out and once William was actually present a sharp mind came out with him. He taught Hans chess and while they played would talk about the books he read. The books he read were a goldmine in philosophy and politics and history and here was Hans’ own personal tutor in leadership. William was a wonder, so much potential, so woefully wasted.  
From William he learnt strategy.

Magnus died. He let the darkness consume him. Hans would not allow such weakness in himself and privately sneered at unlucky number seven.  
From Magnus, he learnt weakness.

Erin was small yet he filled whatever room he was in. Buoyant and bright, Erin’s smile made you feel as though he was delighted to see you no matter if you were the delivery boy or a foreign dignitary or his fiancée. He was funny and fun to be around, with a quick wit and a quicker quip always at the ready. He was one of The Twins, a pair so dreadfully co-dependent that they were easily recognised as twins in spite of their differing features. They were two halves of a whole and of that split, Erin received all affability. People liked Erin yet he did nothing with that power but enjoy their company and adoration. Hans watched how Erin bumped into people and then laughed it off, how he sang and played music and danced, how even when he was awkward, he was still likeable. Hans practised Erin’s slightly sheepish but amused smile in the mirror alongside his radiant beam and the way his face seem to shine with joy just below the surface.  
From Erin, he learnt humour.

Erik was the quiet twin, born three hours after Erin and never cried. He grew up to be huge, looking over Erin’s head, muscle bound and vast, a sword always at hand. But those who took his muteness for slowness soon learnt the error of their ways. Erik said nothing so he could see everything, his eyes able to dissect a person as easily as a doctor with a scalpel. He communicated subtly and expected people to understand his gestures, the only ones who bothered to learn his language were Erin, Dylan and William. And Hans, once he learnt of the vast archives of knowledge present in the other’s mind. He begged Erik to teach him to read people as well as him but Erik just shrugged gently and went back to practicing archery. So, Hans watched Erik watch others. He saw Erik with just a slight incline of head tell Erin that the woman flirting with Magnus desperately wanted to be proper royalty not some hangers-on to a tiny duchy. He noticed Erik gently poking Dylan, eyes flicking to a man who’s grip on his cup was too tight to the king’s own cup and later the man would be charged for attempted assassination. Hans watched until he could read people himself, until he could even read Erik. It amused him so much to know that behind the vast physique and stony exterior was a sad, little mind worried about his brothers.  
From Erik, he learnt observation.

Lars was a gap child, the first prince of the third queen, there was a seven-year age gap between him and the twins. He came from a purely political marriage with a father who didn’t care about him and a mother who had to always be concerned by her younger children. Lars had a mind for maths, coldly logical and utterly ruthless. Mostly he was unintendedly cruel but there were times when the palace felt so full and the eldest four’s fighting was so tiresome and the middle five were so annoying and his youngest brothers were just so loud so he would snap and snarl, his tongue curling like a whip as he callously tore those he had power over to pieces. Hans hated the fact that Lars had the power to reduce him to tears especially when Lars was mostly stiff and awkward, more comfortable managing trade than managing a dance partner he didn’t care for. For there were few he cared for. Once he tried ignoring everyone, just to see how it would go. He lasted a whole month ignoring everyone before Scott hit him. With others it lasted longer, managing to ignore Hans for two years and it made Hans blood boil how Niels and Jorgen had joined in just for fun. At least Lars ignored him out of a general hatred for humanity.  
From Lars he learnt apathy.

Niels emulated his older brothers as much as physically possible. He copied Soren’s walk and imitated Erik stance. Nothing about Niels was original, his distaste for other people was Lars’, his boorish nature was Scott’s, his arrogance was Matthias’. Yet he was so blissfully unaware of how poorly these borrowed attributes fit him, all he knew was that people just didn’t seem to like and a great bitterness grew in him. He was a prince yet he was brushed aside. Niels looked out of the castle and was so bitterly jealous of the commoner’s casual affection that he saw outside but not inside. So, he pushed down all those thoughts, all that void and clung to his title and birth right. He was royalty, he was better, so what if his father sometimes forgot his name? He was a prince. He clung to Lars, the closest to him in age and Lars tolerated his presence and his sneering mockery of all below them. Niels liked to kick those when they were down and Hans was mostly on the receiving end of those kicks all the while subjected to a tirade of condescension.  
From Niels, he learnt superiority.

Jorgen, the black sheep of the family, almost literally with his black hair and dark eyes out of place in the sea of red and blonde and freckles. The physical remnants of the King’s affair, only housed in the palace because of the king’s affection for his dead mother. Jorgen was bitter, a bastard kept in a court where he would never be able to succeed or achieve. Jorgen craved a purpose, an achievement anything would do. He was the useless son, barely even in the family let alone the succession line, second youngest if he was even counted. The queen barely tolerated his existence, far more concerned with her youngest son. A pale, redheaded prince with all the courtly grace Jorgen lacked. Jorgen hated Hans with a passion and the feeling was mutual. Hans despised Jorgen. He wasn’t even a legitimate child. The fact that he had to acknowledge him as his equal pissed Hans off. Their fighting was infamous in the palace, both desperate to not be the most useless, least worthy son, everything to gain, little to lose. For all the differences they disliked each other for, they hated each other for their similarities.  
From Jorgen, he learnt desperation.

Hans grew up in the shadow of twelve brothers, some more competent than others but with the knowledge that he was so far down the line he barely even counted as a spare anymore. Hans who was a mirror to those around him, who picked up all the talents and skills of those around him, set off to where he could shine brighter, determined that his name would be known and he would have his own prize, a kingdom no matter what. Hans came back from Arendelle an attempted usurper, the only reasons his hand weren’t covered in blood was luck. He left in silks and he came back in chains. Hans, dragged before the royal family for recompense, looked his brothers in their eyes and smiled.  
Hans taught them evil.

**Author's Note:**

> So just some details that I'm not sure if they're entirely clear, Arthur and Dylan are identical twins but Arthur was born first and Dylan has no interest in being king. He likes running his spy-network thanks. William has very bad anxiety and a bit of an eating disorder. Magnus committed suicide. I didn't dwell too much on how/why, that's up to interpretation. I didn't focus too much on these parts, I thought Hans' reaction was more important.  
> What I wanted to illustrate with these elements was that every member of that family was damaged by their upbringing- these were boys who very neglected and grew up in a high pressure environment, they need therapy (especially Lars tbh) and all have different coping mechanisms, Hans' coping mechanism was just very destructive.


End file.
